


The Heart of a Warrior

by lyzkyz



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyzkyz/pseuds/lyzkyz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arlie got on her uncle's plane to escape her life for a little while. She didn't realize it might be the last time she lived it. Now, trapped on the Rook Islands with a psychotic killer pulling at her heart, the island's warriors want her to join their ranks and free their people. Arlie just wants to save her family. They want her to save their world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crash Landing

The Pacific ocean rippled beneath us, sparkling the beautiful pale blue of the sky. That blue beckoned me, calling me out of the plane, and I ached to listen. I wanted the wind to catch me before this trip ended and I was forced back into my miserable existence.

I didn't realize why my cheeks hurt until Cory said, "Go back to hiding that smile. You almost blinded me."

I went to stick my tongue out at him, but my uncle was already looking back out the windshield, like a good pilot. Instead, I grinned at my cousin beside me. Xavier grinned back.

Cory and Xavier were more family to me than my own parents or siblings. They were the only ones who understood that I was truly happy only when I was airborne. I loved my parents, but in my head, I wished Cory was my father. I wished he homeschooled me like Xavier, and took me on all their trips, and I wouldn't have to live my daily hell at school. Where I could do nothing right. Where I was a useless waste of space. Where each word hurt more than the cuts on my wrists and legs.

No, I wasn't going to think about that. Not when I felt happy for the first time in years. Up in the sky, they couldn't hurt me. I wouldn't let them.

Gazing back out the window, I spotted a mass of green a couple miles out. Through the headset, I said, "Hey, guys, there's an island!"

From this high, I saw there were actually two islands. Two big islands. "Sweet," Xavier said. "Get closer."

Cory began a steep decline, allowing a much better view of the northern island. As we got closer, I saw that beyond the sandy white beaches, much of the island was covered in trees. Deep green trees that from in the sky looked like an ocean themselves, as if I could swim in the leaves. I looked over as Xavier opened one of the maps we kept handy.

"We're here," my cousin said, putting his finger on a spot in the middle of the Banda Sea. This revealed a group of five islands, two much bigger. The other three were farther east. The islands must not have been significant, because no cities or land masses were shown, only a name. "They're called the Rook Islands."

I pressed my face against the window to watch as we got closer and closer, when a crack sounded, followed by Cory's, "What the hell?" Something hard had collided with the windshield, causing a crack to spiderweb across the right side. "God damn it!" Cory cursed.

"What was that?" I asked Xavier.

"It looked like a piece of metal." His blue eyes, the same dark shade as mine and our fathers', scanned our plane and the outside. Then they narrowed. "Is that...?"

Boom!

I screamed, that high-pitched sound drowning out everything else. An explosion burst the windows on Cory's and Xavier's side. Some of that glass sprinkled on my jeans and sweater, a larger piece lightly scratching my left cheek. Black smoke from the explosion impaired my vision and breathing, making me cough and tears to spring to my eyes. The wind blew my hair everywhere.

But none of that really mattered, not when we were suddenly plunging towards the ocean.

I grabbed Xavier's arm, still screaming. Cory shouted something, but with the headset and the deafening explosion and my screaming, it was inaudible. Nothing mattered. I was going to die.

Cory's tiny plane had no chance of surviving the impact. It tore apart upon hitting the ocean, pulling all three of us immediately under. Warm, salty water filled my lungs. My heart raced wildly, and nothing mattered except getting air. I banged my fist as hard as I could against the window. I had to get out of that plane. I had to get out!

Red leaked from my now burning, aching right fist, but my need for oxygen had me punching again and again until a hand grasped my left arm. I tucked my fist against my chest as Xavier pulled me out of his window. If I hadn't been underwater, I would've sworn it was on fire. I kicked my legs as Xavier pulled me with him above water, away from the wreck that was slowly sinking.

Xavier helped me stay afloat as I coughed up seawater, gasping for air. While I purged my lungs for a good two minutes, he shouted, "Dad! Dad!"

Tears from the horrible burning pain blurred my vision, but I scanned the ocean for another bobbing figure. Nothing.

"Land," I sputtered, coughing again.

We hadn't landed far from the beach. Without waiting for Xavier, I started swimming, each dip of my right hand bringing on more pain. Now that my head was a little clearer, I realized how stupid punching my window had been. I couldn't even do anything right when my life was in danger.

Xavier followed, gasping for breath as well. "I can't find my dad!"

"Maybe he...maybe he already landed." Truthfully, I couldn't find it in me to worry about Cory, not when I was in so much pain and I was still worried about dying. I could worry about Cory once I was out of the water.

My arms ached, quickly exhausted from my lack of swimming skills, but I had to go only a little farther. Just a little farther. Keep going, keep going, keep going...

I collapsed on the sand before I was even fully out, the grains burning my forehead, my arms too tired to move.

"Dad?" Xavier called.

Against my body's will, I sat up, dragging myself completely out of the water. My cousin was already standing up, water dripping from his clothes. My own clothes felt a hundred times heavier, sticking to my body and practically pouring water. My hair, darkened to nearly black, stuck to my face and soaked my sweater more. When I stood up, sand covered my trembling legs.

"Dad!"

No answer came. Xavier turned back towards the ocean, running until it was up to his knees. I didn't dare follow. "Dad! Dad! Dad, please answer me!" He turned back to me, eyes glimmering with tears. "We have to find my dad, Arlie!"

I looked around. There were some big, gray rocks jutting out of the sand, and the beach went on for a while to the right, but curved to the left. Far out, there was a cliff hanging over the Pacific. Behind us, the sand ended where the jungle began.

No clues on what happened to Cory. My heart twisted, suddenly concerned for him as well.

I joined Xavier in the water and tugged him back onto the beach. As the fourteen-year-old looked at me expectantly, I realized uneasily that I was in charge. How could I take care of him when I could barely take care of myself?

"Let's...let's start looking." I had no idea what to do. If Cory's part of the plane had been severed from ours, he might have floated and landed farther away, on some other part of the beach. Swallowing, trying to hide my incompetency, I said, "I'll go left, you go right. Call if you find him."

"We're splitting up?"

"We don't know which way he went. Do you have a better idea?" Now really wasn't the time to get snappy, but if Xavier wanted me to be a leader instead of a follower, I didn't want him questioning me.

He shook his head, flinging water in every direction.

"Good. Now go."

We started in separate directions. I reached in my pocket for my phone, then realized the crash and subsequent dunking had no doubt destroyed it. Probably my headphones, too. Damn it. Scowling, I pushed my sleeve away and inspected my wounded hand. Each knuckle was covered in blood, likely hiding bruises. Flexing the muscles caused searing pain, making me hiss. I supposed I was lucky I hadn't broken anything.

Hell, I was lucky the crash hadn't killed me.

Around the curve I entered the trees, seeking to get away from the sun. My clothes were soaked, but the sun was beating down on me, and I had on jeans and a sweater. Tolerable in Midwestern heat, not tropical. Despite the scars and scabs on my wrists I tried so hard to hide, I took off the sweater. There was nobody around to see them. Not like they would care, anyway.

I glanced down, realizing I was wearing a white T-shirt with some black cursive writing on it. The writing did nothing to stop my blue bra from showing. Sighing, I realized that between the pain and fatigue, I really didn't care.

The long grass and plants brushed against my arms. This place would have been beautiful, if I hadn't crash-landed here. I'd nearly reached the edge of the treeline, back to the beach, when a shout broke through the air.

I froze. I knew that voice.

Hurrying forward, I nearly broke through the trees. Human instinct made me dive behind a large rock at the sight of guns. My breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs, as I took in the scene.

Cory, in the middle of a group of men wearing red shirts and bandanas over their faces, carrying easily recognizable AK-47s. One of the red-shirted men hit Cory on the head with the rifle butt, knocking Cory to the sand as he cried out. A couple of the men laughed, sadistic grins on their faces.

My hands clenched into fists as they started shaking. I hissed as pain burst from my right hand, then slapped my left over my mouth to avoid making any more noises.

Oh God oh God oh God—

"Xavier!"

My cousin suddenly entered my vision as he ran across the sand, unaware of the danger ahead. I got up, keeping as low as I could, prepared to say his name again and hope to God I wouldn't die, when a hand that wasn't mind clamped over my mouth.

I screamed but it didn't matter. The hand muted any sound I wanted to make.

The scent of smoke and cigars and something unidentifiable hit me as my captor pulled me to his hard body, his other arm tight around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides.

"Shh, sweetheart," he whispered, his mouth right next to my left ear. An accent, Spanish, I believed, laced his words. "We might miss the action."

Tears of frustration, fear, and pain leaked from my eyes. In my head, I screamed, Xavier, no! Stay back! I screamed them so loud in my head I thought he might be able to hear me, but it was to no avail. He kept running until he saw them, and then he froze, crying out, "Dad!"

"Xavier!" Cory lifted his head, his voice hoarse. My eyes widened when I saw bright blood drip from his mouth. "Run ba—oof!"

One of the armed men knocked Cory unconscious with his gun. An unheard sob escaped from my body. No matter how much Xavier wanted to help his father, a sense of self-preservation must have kicked in, because he immediately turned around and began sprinting. I saw tears glinting on his red cheeks.

A Red Shirt shouted orders in a foreign language to a couple of the others before beginning to pursue Xavier with two others. Two of the others who had stayed behind went off in a different direction, leaving two with Cory. One kept kicking Cory in the ribs, as though prodding a dead animal.

"Don't worry," the man holding me murmured in my ear. I felt light-headed, unable to get air as I tried instinctively to breathe heavily through my mouth. "You'll see your brother soon."

I didn't have enough time to decipher that sentence before pain erupted in my skull and blackness enveloped me.


	2. The Escape

Everything hurt.

My limbs ached, my hand stung, and my head throbbed with my heartbeat. At first, my memory was blank. For all I knew, I'd gotten run over by a train. It certainly felt like it. After a few seconds, the fog in my head slowly began to clear. Being in Australia with Cory and Xavier. Flying over the Pacific, grinning down at beautiful white islands and clear, blue seas.

I almost smiled. Then I remembered the explosion, and the jarring impact as the plane hit the ocean. Cory falling to the sand as blood dripped from his mouth. Those men with AK-47s chasing Xavier. That man, holding me back from helping. Making me completely useless as always.

My eyelids shot open, heart beginning to race. At first I saw nothing. It was night now, too dark for me to see anything. As my eyes adjusted, I noted that the only light came from the moonlight coming in between the trees, and torches lit up on a couple buildings. And...oh shit, I was in a cage. A _cage_. Probably not even big enough for me to stand in, with bars made of what looked like bamboo. My wrists were tied together above my head.

There was another person in the cage with me, a girl. She couldn't have been any older than me, and with the lack of light, her eyes looked as deep and dark as the sky. Unlike me, her mouth was covered with duct tape. I stared at her for a couple seconds, until she turned her head to the side. I followed her gaze.

I promptly froze. Everything, including my heart, stopped.

"Did you dream about me, hermana?"

That was the same accent-laced voice that had whispered in my ear while making me watch those men beat my uncle and chase my cousin.

He chuckled, kneeling beside me. The bars separated us, and right then, I was thankful for them. My heart stuttered, breath catching in my dry throat when I took in the black pistol he held so casually in his hands, moonlight glinting off of it.

"Don't look so frightened." My eyes went from the gun to his eyes. Piercing, cat-like hazel eyes, watching me like a predator toying with his prey. "The fun hasn't even begun."

I really didn't want to know his definition of "fun".

His eyes shifted momentarily to the other captive girl, who watched him with a silent fire raging in her black eyes. He smirked, standing up again. With his attention temporarily off of me, I took those few seconds to survey him. If he didn't have that psychotic glint in his eyes, and if I wasn't scared out of my mind, I would've been attracted to him. He was sexy in a rough sort of way, with that black mohawk, the deep scar on his scalp, and cargo pants that fit nicely on his ass.

That shoved-down feminine part of me, the part that had a thing for bad boys and wildness, appreciated all that. Pushing that part even further down wasn't difficult when he set his eyes on me again. No amount of sexy or attraction could keep fear from nearly ripping my insides apart right then.

"So, Arlene Morris, from..." The psycho pulled out a glinting white card from one of his pockets. "...Missouri. Sixteen years old."

I felt sick. He had my permit!

He smirked and said, "I like Arlie more."

"Please don't," I murmured, finally breaking my silence. Somehow, him knowing my name, especially the nickname used only by people close to me, was the worst. I thought I'd throw up if it slipped from his lips again.

That playful looked dropped so fast, as though it had been a mask. If I hadn't been tied in place, those eyes would have pinned me to the spot. My heart lodged itself in my throat.

"Did I fucking say you could speak?"

I cringed, tears welling in my eyes as I jerked my head to look at the ground beneath me.

"Look at me."

I couldn't.

"Fucking _look_ at me!" He practically roared the words, the cage shaking as he gripped one of the bars. Lips quivering, a couple tears leaking down my cheeks, I looked up at him. He kneeled down again, so we were eye-to-eye. His next words were much calmer. I think that scared me more. "You think...you think you and your stupid cousin and your worthless uncle...you think you could just land on my island... _my_ island!" He gripped the bar so hard his knuckles were white. "This is _my fucking island_ and I will do whatever the fuck I want on it! I am king here." He looked at the other girl. Fear flashed in her eyes. As he shouted the words, " _I am_!" he jabbed his thumb to his chest.

It took all I had not to start sobbing, but there was nothing I could do about the tears flowing down my cheeks now. Maybe if I told him we'd never meant to land here it would help, but I was terrified he'd start yelling again. Instead, I kept my mouth shut.

After staring down the girl for a few seconds, he turned back to me. I wanted to cower away, for the ground to open up and take me under, but I was stuck there. Uselessly, utterly trapped.

Always trapped.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. Everything will be okay." God, that pet name again. But when his voice was like this, infinitely softer, almost...caring, he didn't seem so scary. For a moment, the tears stopped coming.

Then, someone shouted: "Vaas!"

The psycho man turned. Vaas. That was his name.

"Stop shouting! You're scaring the game away." A man appeared, the shadows still vaguely concealing him. All I saw was pale skin. His voice had an accent I'd never heard before. "Come. The slaves are getting impatient. You can play with your toys tomorrow."

My blood went very, very cold. _Slaves._

The man stalked away. Vaas watched him go, then turned back to us. Me.

I wished I was invisible.

"You and I, Arlie, we're going to have a lot of fun tomorrow." That predator's look was back again. "Bye-bye."

The urge to throw up nearly overwhelmed me. Somehow, I managed to keep it down.

Vaas sauntered off, passing a guard I hadn't even known was there. The guard, wearing the same red shirt and bandana that those guys on the beach had, had his back turned to us, clearly not worried about us running off. He casually held an AK-47.

"We need to get out of here," I whispered to the girl.

She only shook her head, unable to respond with the duct tape.

"We have to! They'll kill us!" My voice was almost hysterical.

Her eyes were hard, like onyx, but I refused to believe her. There _had_ to be a way out! I tugged on the rope that bound my wrists, heart jumping when I realized how loosely it had been knotted. If I pulled hard enough, I could get out. I _could_. And then I'd find Cory and Xavier, and we could get the hell off of this fucked up island. Even going home, back to Blue Springs, was better than staying here.

I pulled as hard as I could, wriggling my fingers and wrists. I gritted my teeth, trying not to hiss as pain flared in my knuckles. That in turn set my head pounding harder. This whole thing was a nightmare.

At last, the grip the ropes had slackened enough that I was able to twist my tiny wrists out of its hold. If my hands had been any bigger, I doubted I would've managed to get them through. The guards back still turned, I crawled to the now wide-eyed girl and undid her restraints. Once she too was free, she pulled off the duct tape, wincing.

"I'm not dying here," I said, as determinedly as I could.

The girl glanced back at the guard. "We need to get out of this cage." Her accent was different than Vaas's or the stranger's, and it was much stronger. "There is only one guard. Vaas's pirates are not afraid of girls. But he is still armed."

Pirates. They were called pirates. That word had never sounded scary until then.

"How do we get out?" I whispered.

She swallowed, eyes searching the bars. "If...if we can get out, there's a hole in the fence. Behind you." She pointed, and I followed her finger. Behind me, some feet away, there was indeed a small hole at the bottom of the fence. A building nearly concealed it. I doubted the guard could see it from his position. "We can search the building for weapons and sneak out."

I nodded, letting out an unsteady breath. It still didn't answer the question of how we were going to escape the cage, but before I could inquire, the guard moved. "Get back!" I hissed, slamming my back against the bars and pushing my hands back through the loose knot. She put her hands up, not bothering with the rope on the ground. Oh God, if he noticed, we were dead.

The guard turned as another appeared from the shadows. The first guard nodded at the other, handed him a shiny key, then began walking towards our cage. My heart pounded almost painfully against my ribs.

"Quiet, you worthless shit!" Another new accent. He banged his fist on the top of the cage, and as he did, something thudded on the dirt ground. Both mine and the girl's eyes widened. The guard walked away, muttering in a foreign language.

I hardly noticed. All I saw was the gleaming silver of the knife on the ground.

Our new guard couldn't be bothered with us either. He walked towards the building maybe thirty or forty feet away from us. While his back was turned, I yanked my hands so hard from the rope that it burned and grabbed the knife. It wasn't a very large one, but while the black hilt was dull and worn, the blade was sharp and clean. I met the girl's eyes.

I didn't know how the knife had slipped from the guard, how he hadn't noticed, but I didn't care. It was in my hand now, and I _would_ be free. I would not die like an animal.

Even still, with this sudden boldness, fear grasped my insides as I yelled, "Hey, over here, asshole!"

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw the girl's eyes widen even more, but kept mine trained on the guard as his head snapped over to us. I hid the knife behind my back as the guard stormed over to our cage, not even a foot away from me, with only the bars separating us. "Shut the fuck up, or I'll gut you," he spat.

"Too late," I growled, slipping the knife between the bars and slamming it into his gut.

He screamed. Nausea rolled in my stomach as his blood splattered onto my left hand. I got on my knees as he doubled over, smacking his head against the top of the cage. Pulling the knife from his stomach, I didn't bother aiming or really looking at where it went, I just knew I got it somewhere in his neck. His blood rained down on my arm.

I pulled it out again as he got on his hands and knees, blood pouring from the two wounds in his body. The girl came over and pulled at his pants, getting his pockets within reach to get the key. Meanwhile, I was unable to keep it down anymore. I turned, fell on my hands in much the same position as the guard, and emptied my stomach on the ground.

When I finished vomiting whatever meal I had last eaten, I stayed there for a few seconds, staring at the shining dark blood that now coated the knife. Oh God...had I really...Oh, Jesus...

I heard the girl unlocking the gate and the door swinging open, but I still couldn't move. The guard no longer coughed or gurgled or screamed.

Dead. _Dead_. I _killed_ someone.

"Come on!" the girl said, gripping my right arm with surprising strength and pulling me over to the door. I stumbled out of it and stood on very shaky legs. Everything shook. Especially my left arm, still holding the knife, still covered in that man's blood. The girl yanked my arm. I looked at her. "You did what you must. He deserved to die."

I knew that. But...I had _killed_ him.

"Look at me, Arlie."

Her voice was commanding, but not frightening in the way Vaas had been. So I did, marvelling at her confidence.

"You are a warrior. I can see it. I can feel it." She held my gaze, never once looking away. "Few people, even my own, have the strength to defy Vaas. Few people have the strength to kill a man, even when their life is in danger."

Had she not seen me cry? Had she not seen how terrified I was? "I'm useless."

"No, you are a warrior. Fear is not a weakness, not if you have the strength to push it aside. You do, and with that strength, we _will_ escape this camp."

I stopped shaking. Her words, they were so confident. She was so sure of herself. For the first time in probably my entire life, I believed I could do something. Nodding, I said, "Okay."

"Good. Now, this building might have weapons, but we need to be quick. The guard's screaming may have alerted Vaas." She let go of my arm and hurried to the building covering the hole in the fence. I followed. She opened the door and practically yanked me inside, shutting the door behind us. "Search and take anything that looks useful."

I went to the back of the building, searching through papers and photos and whatever else the pirates had left here. I found a map of the two biggest islands and folded it up, shoving it in my pocket. There was a flashlight, and a much bigger knife laying on a table. It wasn't clean and shiny like the guard's blade had been originally, but the bloody knife sickened me, so I replaced it. Upon inspection, I realized a more accurate term for this blade would be _machete_.

I almost laughed, thinking my mom and dad would kill me if they saw me now. They had never even let me touch a lighter, let alone a _machete_. Holding it in my hands, feeling its weight, I felt power run through my veins.

"Have you found anything?" the girl called.

I showed her the machete. The flashlight and map seemed very insignificant compared to it. "You?"

She held up an AK-47. It seemed wrong to see her hold that gun, when she looked so young and innocent. I was willing to bet she was younger than me. We shared a triumphant look, and then her face hardened, and I realized that while she might've been younger than me, she had certainly seen so, so much more.

"We need to go," she said.

As we scrambled out the door, I asked her, "What's your name?"

She didn't spare me a glance as we hurried down the stairs. "Siska."

I swallowed as we passed the dead guard, laying in a pool of his own blood. His gun was beneath him, and I thought about grabbing it, but half a second later decided that if we kept running, we wouldn't need to put up a fight. We'd already wasted precious time in that building.

The shadows darkened the area behind the building, so much so that I could hardly see. Siska got on her hands and knees when we reached the hole, and then she dropped to her stomach and began pushing herself through it. The fence shook, and I tapped the machete against my leg impatiently, worried the pirates would find us.

It took about a minute and a half before Siska was safely on the other side of the fence.

"Hurry!" she whispered.

I got down, wincing as my sore limbs protested. I got my head through fairly easily, but it was a tight fit for the rest of my body. My breasts did not like being scraped against the hard ground, and I had to wiggle and twist to get my hips through the hole. It was the first time I'd ever noticed my curves, and I didn't like them. It was also the first time that I realized my right hand had been wrapped in a white, now-dirtied bandage. I momentarily paused, nearly through. Had...had Vaas bandaged my wounded knuckles?

"Come on!" Siska urged.

I pulled myself the rest of the way through, scrapes and bruises now littering my sides. Siska pulled my arm, and I clutched my machete as we hurried through the dark jungle.

We'd nearly made it up the hill when a _bang_ shattered the night, and a piercing, horrible pain shot through my arm. I screamed, the force knocking me to the ground. But hitting the ground, that was _nothing_ compared to the fire that now burned in my right arm.

"Arlie!" Siska shouted.

Even as she shouted, she didn't exist. Nothing existed except my arm and the fire and my groans.

A horrible chuckle managed to break through all that. "You think you can save her? I'll give you thirty seconds. Go on, save her, you native bitch!"

A hand wrapped around my other arm, forcing me to my feet. The world spun, and I nearly fell again from dizziness. "Oh God, Siska...I can't."

"Yes you _can_!" she snapped, pulling me with her. "Let's go!"

"I _can't_!" It hurt too much. I couldn't do anything. And the world only spun more, like I was standing on a globe that kept spinning and spinning and spinning. A sob wracked my body. I knew right then that I was going to faint.

But Siska kept pulling me, despite my protests. Behind us, Vaas laughed again.

"You can't run from me, Arlie!" he called.

He was right, I couldn't, because as soon as my name left his mouth, I blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	3. The Fire

That second time waking up from unnatural unconsciousness was two times more than I was comfortable with, and if I'd learned anything from my health class last year, it was that I probably had a concussion. The pounding in my head said something similar.

But that pain, and the aching in my limbs, and any other pain I might've had, all of that paled in comparison to the throbbing burn in my arm.

I hissed, immediately covering the wound with my left hand. My eyes blinked open, taking in the dimly lit room while breathing hard. A house made of wood...where the hell was I? At least I was on a bed this time, albeit a hard, uncomfortable one. I propped myself up with my good arm, and realized then that I was in completely different clothes. Denim shorts, a light blue tanktop, no shoes. It was a much more fitting outfit for the environment than my sweater and jeans, but it showed too much of my pale skin. I wanted to cover myself up. Hide my scarred arms, my ugliness.

"You're awake."

I jumped back, yelping at the pain that flared in my arm. The man who'd talked, a black man with a strange accent, came closer to me. Thankfully, he stayed a good distance away from the bed.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"In pain," I said shortly. Had he captured us? Where was Siska? Was he going to take me back to Vaas? Dread churned in my stomach.

"I'm not surprised. But you are a lucky girl." Lucky? It took everything in me not to start screaming. "The bullet went clean through your arm. It will take a while to heal, but you will live."

I glanced at the area the bullet had hit. It was wrapped in a white bandage, stained in red. I noticed too that the dirty bandage that had been put on my hand had been replaced with a clean white one.

"We also changed the bandage on your hand," he said.

If he wasn't one of Vaas's men, then who was he? Or maybe he was. It had been them, after all, who had bandaged my hand. Either way, I managed to say, "Thank you."

The man came closer then. I flinched away, but my wounded arm didn't allow me to move. He gently took my good arm, turning it so I could see all the white scars I'd accumulated, and...

"What the he—"

"I knew the moment Siska brought you in here that you were a warrior. Nobody has ever escaped one of Vaas's camps before." His dark eyes shined with awe as he watched my face, my reaction to the small black tattoos that had been embedded around my wrists and near my elbow.

I finally pulled my arm away, looking at it from every angle. Not bad, really, and I'd always wanted a tattoo, but..."My parents are going to kill me," I informed the guy. First stabbing a guy, now a tattoo. If this island didn't kill me, my family would.

"Where are your parents?" he asked, sitting on a stool that was beside the bed.

"Home. In Missouri. But...Xavier. My uncle." I sat up, crying out briefly as the burning wound flared. I looked at the man. "Vaas, he took them. I...I don't know where they are. I have to find them."

"Hmm." He got up, going to his desk and turning his back to me. The pause between his words was infinitely too long for me. "We can help each other, Arlie."

"How?" A very brief pause. "How do you know my name?"

"Siska told me. I am Dennis, by the way." Dennis turned back to me, coming to me again. His eyes were bright. "Fight for us. Join our fight against Vaas, and we can free your family and save the islands."

Fight? Had he not seen me get nearly killed? "I can't fight."

"Your American life has held you back, but we, the Rakyat, we can free you." He got next to the bed and knelt down, so we were eye-to-eye. He was much less intimidating that way. "We can free the warrior in your soul. Teach you to be who you were meant to be."

Something in my chest kindled at his words. Be who I was meant to be. Who was I meant to be? Was I really meant to be anything more than the quiet, depressed girl who always sat in the back of the classroom? I'd never thought so.

Not until I'd picked up that gun. Not until I saw Xavier get chased by crazy pirates, and knew I'd do anything to save him. My cousin, but my brother at heart. More of a brother than my own was. And Cory, who felt more like a father than my real one did.

"Okay," I whispered, and that kindle flared up into a small flame. I sat up straighter, wincing. "How can I save them?"

"We must wait for the arm to heal. You are no used to us this way."

"But—"

"Don't worry. Our warriors are getting intel. In the mean time—" Dennis stood up, moving to the door and holding it open. The warm breeze instantly caressed my body, a smooth whisper against my skin. I felt my lips turn up in an unexpected smile. "—let me introduce you to my village."

I carefully cradled my right arm to my chest, gritting my teeth at the pain that flashed up and down the poor limb. Against the wooden floor, my feet were a bit shaky. I gave myself a couple moments to get used to standing again, and the soreness from all the activity from the past few days, and then approached Dennis. He smiled at me, shutting the door behind us once I took the first step out.

The sun was high in the sky, causing me to squint at the sudden brightness. It took several seconds, but once my eyes adjusted, I was amazed by the sight. The village was made up of wooden shacks, much like Dennis's, and lights strung up over the buildings, and people in summer clothing mulling about. Their dark skin reminded me how ghastly pale I was. Perhaps that was what made them stare back at me.

Surrounding the village was the jungle, with its bushes and grass as tall as me and huge trees I'd never seen before. A small fence showed the border between the jungle and village. Dirt paths carved it up.

Dennis stood beside me, hands in his pockets. "Welcome to Amanaki."

The air, the ground, the sounds...unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. It was amazing. For a moment, I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of what surrounded me that even the pain in my arm simmered down.

"Arlie!"

A took me a second to remember that the voice calling my name was Siska's. The girl, who looked even younger now that I saw her in daylight and not locked up in a cage, hurried over to me. Her eyes—which I now saw were not black but a very dark brown—widened slightly.

"How is your arm?" she asked, looking me over.

"It'll heal," I said, looking her over too. She was...thirteen, maybe fourteen. Definitely no older than me. Wow. How could someone so young be so...strong?

Dennis came to stand beside me, saying, "Siska's mother is Amanaki's healer. The job will some day pass down to Siska. She's the one bandaged your wounds."

"So she's like, a doctor?" I clarified.

"Yes. A very good one," he added.

Siska eyed my arm, where that tattoo was embedded. "You are going to help us fight?"

I hesitated. "Y-yes, I guess. I just want to save my uncle and my cousin."

I lowered my head, suddenly feeling selfish. Two people. I wanted to save two people, while the rest of them suffered. But...did it matter? What could I do? I'd barely survived running away. What the hell did fighting entail, anyway? Guns? Knives? I'd never shot a gun in my life! And fighting...

My stomach curled, remembering the feeling of hot, sticky blood running down my hand, my arm. I shuddered, looking at my hand to make sure it was clean.

"We will try, Arlie," she said, a sureness in her eyes that made me believe her. "I promise."

Try. Not for certain. I nodded my thanks, trying not to panic while remembering Xavier running from those men. "What are they...what does he want with them?"

Siska glanced at the ground, twisting her fingers. I looked to Dennis for answers, who looked at me as gently as he could while he said, "Vaas runs a slave-trading ring."

I felt my face go pale. Slave-trading ring? What the actual fuck? "You're not serious."

"We will do our best to find them," Siska said.

Slaves weren't supposed to exist anymore. God, why us? Why my amazing uncle and innocent cousin? What would've happened to Siska and I if we hadn't escaped that cage? And what was going to happen to them?

No, nothing would happen to them. I wouldn't let it. They were my anchor to life, the reason the blade to my skin had never gone fatally deep. I had to save them, because they didn't deserve them. And if I lost them, what would happen to me?

For the first time in my life, I felt that fire light my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize but my updates are going to be pretty random, since I have school and work to deal with. I'll do my best to update at least once a week though. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think of my writing! Much appreciated.


End file.
